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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27383896">Winter in Singapore</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/eveofjune/pseuds/eveofjune'>eveofjune</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Twosetviolin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, November Showers, One Shot, Rain, Sort Of, Winter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 00:13:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>716</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27383896</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/eveofjune/pseuds/eveofjune</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There is winter in Singapore, you just have to look close enough.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddy Chen &amp; Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Winter in Singapore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>        He knows it’s started, when he sees more clouds than sun, when he finds himself shivering from the rain more often than he has to turn on the AC to keep himself from melting.</p>
<p>        Even though it technically never stops being summer in Singapore, November brings cooler days. Ones perfect to drink hot chocolate in bed, ones that are cold enough to bite at the tips of Brett’s fingers as they dance across the fingerboard of his violin.</p>
<p>        It’s never as cold as Australia in June, but it’s still winter, at least to Brett.</p>
<p>	       After all, how can it not feel like winter when Eddy practises Sibelius day after day after day, and makes fun of Brett for bundling up; when he looks out the window and only sees grey.</p>
<p>	       Winter in Australia was winter, but <em>this</em>, this is different. </p>
<p>	       He doubts he will ever understand it, being a foreigner, merely passing through this country, not staying for too long.</p>
<p>	       He fails to comprehend how the locals can still step out in their usual t-shirt, shorts and slippers, and go about their daily business as usual, unhindered, though disgruntled, by the weather.</p>
<p>	       He fails to grasp how the city is always on the move, when there is clearly magic in the works in November.</p>
<p>	       He fails to see the cold rainy days the locals do: bitter, disruptive, troublesome. </p>
<p>	       To Brett, the rain always seems to put everything into slow-motion, giving rise to other, more deliberate activities: ones that involve him curling up in 3 layers of Twoset Apparel, maybe with a book, listening to Eddy play violin in the background. Yes, the rain takes away walks in the park, outings at the beach, but here, at home, he has his own sun: his violin, his comfort, his best friend.</p>
<p>        And don’t even get him started on the atmosphere that sets in after the rain subsides.</p>
<p>        Eddy closes the windows, says he can’t stand the sticky humidity. Brett disagrees. He leaves the living room windows open when Eddy retreats into his room to practise, breathing in the salty smell of the rain, feeling the leftover water vapour condense gently on his skin. He peels off his hoodie (then again, he’s not completely insane) and puts on a recording of Satie’s Gymnopedies, wondering how others can find fault with the aftermath of the rain.</p>
<p>	       Brett likens it to the resonance of a symphony right after it ends, to the way the last notes hang in the air, swelling like a soap bubble around the audience, the spell only broken when the first person starts clapping. </p>
<p>	       That space, that silence that isn’t really a silence after all, is where Brett revels in.</p>
<p>        <em>Pity</em>, he likes to think, that it only lasts two seconds.</p>
<p>	       <em>Pity</em>, he thinks often, that the rest hear it but do not listen to it.</p>
<p>        <em>Pity</em>, he thinks again, when others enjoy either the rain or sunshine, but not the incremental space between, where it is both and neither.</p>
<p>	       His recording ends, just as the meek rays of sun begin to shine again.</p>
<p>	       Eddy chalks it up to coincidence, but Brett knows better. </p>
<p>        Coincidence is just a kinder word for accident, and he knows there are no accidents.</p>
<p>	       It’s timed perfectly, just like everything else. God knows the universe has a way with serendipity and fate, and time is relative, after all.</p>
<p>        <em>There is winter in Singapore, Eddy,</em> he says one day, after hearing his roommate complain one time too many. <em>You just have to look close enough.</em></p>
<p>        <em>Look where?</em> Eddy asks, and Brett replies,</p>
<p>        <em>Everywhere.</em></p>
<p>	       Eddy squints hard at the city, partially obstructed by the after-rain fog. But no matter how hard he tries, he can’t see the world Brett does. <em>But there’s only rain and mist,</em> he says and his best friend chuckles lightly, leaving him even more confused as to what he just missed.</p>
<p>        Because even if Eddy has perfect pitch, Brett's always been more perceptive than he ever was.</p>
<p>        Where Eddy sees mist, Brett sees wisps of magic, the kind you can twirl and weave around your fingertips.</p>
<p>	       Where Eddy sees the absence of sunlight, Brett sees the dark grey clouds, holding up the weight of the sky and the weight of their own tears.</p>
<p>	       Where Eddy sees rain, Brett sees snow.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I woke up to rain today, and wondered whether it was raining too on the other side of Singapore wherever B&amp;E are. Hope you enjoyed this short drabble/piece.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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